


αστέρι ουρανός

by Arestia



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M, achilles cries a lot and pat is very confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6523537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arestia/pseuds/Arestia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The song lyrics at the beginning are taken from the song "Star Sky" by Two Steps from Hell (and so is the fic title. and the chapter names. the song is basically written for Patroklos and Achilles ok).<br/>TSFH is my shit, you should totally check them out B) !!!!</p></blockquote>





	αστέρι ουρανός

_ Burn that page for me _

_ I cannot erase the time of sleep _

_ I cannot be loved so set me free _

_ I cannot deliver your love _

_ Or caress your soul _

 

_ So turn that page for me _

_ I cannot embrace the touch that you give _

_ I cannot find solace in your words _

_ I cannot deliver you your love _

_ Or caress your soul _

 

* * *

 

There was only one thing in the world that could quench the anger of the great warrior Achilles, the swift-footed Prince of Thessaly; that terrible and all-consuming force known to shake even the most gallant of men. His comrades knew it, his enemies knew it, and so did his beloved—but Achilles himself did not realize until it was taken from him.

It was the middle of the night, and he was up again. Another dream, another terrible jolt that sent him gasping awake. It was usually the deathless gods—most frequently Aphrodite—that toyed with his head and spoke venomous words of his future his fated death. This time, it was just an unsaturated image of his father crouched low to the ground, his body trembling. He hunched over something—ah, Achilles recognized it. It was his golden helmet, with its shining plating and lofty horsehair plume. His father’s hands pressed hard into the metal. Achilles could not see his face, but he heard indiscrete murmuring coming from his father’s lips. Some words were able to be caught: “Necessity… Apollo… My child…” Suddenly his head snapped up and Achilles saw the disfigured visage in place of his father’s face—the old man’s eyes were missing and blood flowed freely from the vacant sockets. His snarling mouth opened wide and he whispered four soft words.

“Rage will end you.”

Then Achilles started, launching himself to sit upright. He gasped for breath and clutched at his throat; something had been pressing down on his chest, cutting his intake of air—was it his father…? No, not his father. Whatever that  _ thing  _ was that appeared to him. 

Then suddenly, like a fragrant spring breeze, a comforting smell filled his nostrils and he felt at ease. The scent of the battlefield—leather, sweat, and the stinging aroma of blood… but also something else. 

A soft noise of discomfort sounded beside him. There was another noise—the rustling of sheets. A warm hand squeezed his thigh under the covers, eliciting a small shiver from him.

Then a voice—sweeter than honey, husky and low, one that instantly calmed all strife in his heart: “Another sweet message from Aphrodite?”

_ Patroklos. _ Just the name made Achilles feel as if he were a bird, flying high on the crest of the wind without anything grounding it, tying it to the earth below. Patroklos wasn’t immortal, wasn’t one of the ageless gods, but sometimes would Achilles wonder if he was one in disguise. He was too perfect to be simply mortal. This was the man whom the great runner fought beside—together, they were an unstoppable force, like a terrifying gale sweeping across a field and splitting everything in its wake. He was also the man the illustrious hero chose to bed with and devote his life and love to.

“Not this time,” was all Achilles could muster as a response.

Patroklos hoisted himself up. The glimmer in his eyes was still visible to Achilles, even in the dark. “Would you like to talk about it?”

He grunted in reply, twisting his head away from his beloved’s calm, almost innocent gaze. Patroklos, fully human, did not see the workings of Necessity. Achilles was fated to die—no one could change it. Not he, not his mother… not even Zeus, lord of the lightning and king of the gods. He hadn’t said anything about it to Patroklos, nor did he ever intend to.

Strong arms seized him from the side and soft, full lips pressed into his forehead. A contented sigh passed from those same sweet lips as Patroklos settled into him. Achilles winced—their bodies fit so well together, like some kind of glorified puzzle pieces that the gods had created for their own amusement.

“It was my father.” Achilles swallowed hard. “In the dream.”

Patroklos’ long eyelashes tickled Achilles’ cheek. “Lord Peleus? Are you certain…? Why would he appear in a dream? Do you--”

“I know not,” Achilles snipped, wishing more than anything that this conversation would end. “And I know not what he spoke of. It was completely indiscernible. It was most likely an illusion, a god trying to mess with my mind.”

That statement completely contradicted what he had said earlier, but Patroklos knew better than to provoke him further, lest those kindles of anger spark into a full blaze. He did not wish to fight a fire. He was far too tired. So he remained silent and entwined his fingers with Achilles’.

“It felt as if something, or someone, was choking me. There was this pressure on my chest that was unshakable—”

Patroklos chuckled. “I was resting my head there. Forgive me.”

Achilles exhaled sharply—he hated to seem foolish like this, even before his lover.

“If you wish, milord, I will keep watch over you until you fall asleep again.”

“I’ve told you countless times not to address me as such.”

“An old habit. Forgive me.”   

The great hero’s brow wrinkled. He hated those two, cursed words--there was no such thing as forgiveness; not his eyes. “You apologize far too much, Patroklos.”

“Forgive—”

Achilles’ eyes shot over quickly to address’ Patroklos stare. Then a sharp laugh erupted from his throat and he covered his mouth with his hand. “It is your nature, I suppose... my sweet Patroklos.”

“Yes, what strange creatures we are, us  _ mortals _ .”

“Oh, shut up,” Achilles said, masking his voice with an obnoxious whine. His lover laughed and prodded at his cheeks. Then they remained there, unspeaking, for what seemed like an interminable amount of time. This was one of the things Achilles adored about Patroklos—he knew when the time for silence came. He was able to simply indulge himself in Achilles’ company. 

Finally Patoklos disentangled himself from his lover. Achilles immediately missed the warmth at his side. Sadness twinged subtly deep inside him—there was something that was somewhat unsatisfying about this; every soft caress or sugary words that were shared between them. Would Patroklos act this way towards another once he was gone, snatched away by Necessity’s indiscriminate claws? No matter—Achilles pushed the aching thought far back in his mind.

“We should go back to sleep, lest we find ourselves doing so in the middle of warfare,” Patroklos sighed from the pillows, reaching a hand to tug on Achilles’ curls gently. “These restless nights will soon have their vengeance.”

Achilles stretched out against his lover, breathing in the scent that was uniquely Patroklos. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing second; he never felt comforted anywhere else but in Patroklos’ tender embrace.

“These nights will only have their vengeance on  _ you,  _ you mortal man.”   

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics at the beginning are taken from the song "Star Sky" by Two Steps from Hell (and so is the fic title. and the chapter names. the song is basically written for Patroklos and Achilles ok).  
> TSFH is my shit, you should totally check them out B) !!!!


End file.
